


I Wish You meant It

by hydrogendisco



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alcohol, Drunken Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 15:07:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydrogendisco/pseuds/hydrogendisco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First Rikey fic, comments would be very gratefully recieved. Mikey uses time alone to drown his thoughts, but when they leave them helpless and angry he says something he regrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wish You meant It

I’ve known Ray Toro for a long time. A very long time in fact, and most of my fondest memories have been spent with him.  
I’ve also been in love with Ray Toro for a long time. Maybe not quite as long as I’ve known him, but still a long time. Unfortunately, I’m a boy. I have a girlfriend. And he has a girlfriend. I know the whole being gay thing shouldn’t bother me, I should accept it as who I am, but come on, who am I kidding? Image the reaction from the rest of the band...and it’d probably be worse from the fans. Coming out wouldn’t help anyone, it wouldn’t turn Ray gay or make me feel any better about myself. I’m gay. But no one has to know that, right?  
Plus, I have a girlfriend. She’s beautiful, truly stunning and we’re perfect for each other. I wish I didn’t feel the way I do about Ray, because Alicia is everything anyone could want. The amount of times I’ve been told that we’re so ‘cute’ together or that we were made for each other is ridiculous. I stopped counting when my Mum called me about two months ago.  
It’s starting to get to me a little. I feel so isolated, but who could I talk to? I could speak to my brother, and say what? ‘I’m gay with my best friend but we both have girlfriends ha!’ Yeah I don’t think so. Frank would just laugh, think that I’m joking and never let it go. That just leaves Ray. But like I’m going to tell him that I love him more than a friend. He’d freak out! Probably never speak to me as well...so that’s not a great option. I’m left to myself. Bottling up my feelings like I always have done, hoping that they’ll go away if I ignore them enough. They don’t.  
It’s a Thursday night, Alicia’s gone out to do god knows what. I stopped listening to her rant about how hard she worked after five minutes and absentmindedly stared at the window instead. But I’m alone at least, where I’m safest I guess. I want to see Ray, we haven’t seen each other in a week which (in perspective) is a long time. I could call him...or I could sit alone and cry about all my problems while getting steadily drunker.  
I choose the second option. Luckily I find a bottle of vodka in the cupboard, unopened, from our last party. Avoiding the glass cabinet, I grab a packet of paracetamol for my inevitable headache tomorrow morning. I head to the living room, sitting on one of our leather sofas and taking a swig on the alcohol. You’re not supposed to drink vodka without mixing it, I’ve been told countless times by various people, but this way gets rid of the thoughts quicker. It burns my throat, spreading a warmth through me which seems to numb something inside.  
I don’t often drink, because I’ve seen what it did to Gerard and don’t want to go down that route. But there’s something comforting in killing the anger inside of you with a simple drink, though I’m careful not to take too bigger gulps of the stuff. I don’t know why I can’t just come out to all my friends, maybe because I’m a coward.  
Another drink.  
I’m scared I guess, of what they’ll say. Especially Ray.  
And another.  
Sweet and kind Ray with his homely smell and witty charm.  
Another.  
Having to tell them I lied to them for the last year.  
I’m losing track of how much I’ve drunk now. My thoughts grow and grow, instead of shrinking down to nothing. Why won’t they go away? A splitting pain rages through my head, making me drink even more. It doesn’t help, in fact it makes it worse. God it hurts. I drop the bottle then, pressing a hand to my head to try and calm my brain down. The living room almost disappears, my torturous thoughts turning into visuals before my eyes. I realise then that I should have picked my first option, instead of getting this drunk.  
I don’t actually think I’m drunk, I just think that my bottled up feelings are trying to get out of me. The room comes back into view, though it’s blurred, and I make a grab for my phone which is on the coffee table. I have to get help. This is why I don’t drink often. It takes me five tries to type my pass code in, my hands shaking and sweaty. When I do eventually get into my contacts, my mind begins to slip again, telling me that no one would care even if I did call them. I shake my head, screwing my eyes closed and opening them again. I’m breathing too fast, though I feel no air go into my lungs or out. It’s like my body is detached from my brain. Wow I’m drunk. I scroll shakily through my contacts until I reach Ray.  
He answers on the third ring, and sounds a little annoyed. I make a noise down the phone which was supposed to be a greeting, though it comes out as a pained wail. I lose track of what he’s saying pretty quickly, however hard I try to cling on to his low voice. Eventually I manage to ask him to come over, though my words are slurred. I don’t hear his reply but the tone of his voice is panicky so I wait patiently.  
My mind flickers to the pills on the coffee table, would they stop my thoughts? Or would they only make them hurt even more? I don’t know the code for alcohol and medication, but do I care? I try to reach out for them, but I hit the table with more force than I expected and a splitting pain shoots through my wrist. I withdraw my hand and moan a little in pain, though it sounds a lot louder in my ears. I want to get out of here. I don’t know where ‘here’ is though, whether it’s just the house or whether it’s life. I want to go back to when I first met Ray and walk away from him, to stop myself falling so stupidly in love. I can’t though, and that hurts even more.  
I try and shun the feelings for Ray out, and focus on my breathing. However I breath, not enough air seems to fill my lungs, and I wonder if this is what dying is like. Maybe I want to die, maybe I’m suffocating myself on purpose without being in control. I like the idea of death, escaping from everything, a one way ticket out of this hell and into the next, but then I picture my parents at my funeral and focus back on my breathing.  
I’m starting to give up all hope of thinking normally again, when I hear the door to the room open. I turn my heard jerkily in that direction but the room spins and I shut my eyes ago. I gasp for air, making a strangled noise of pain instead. Then Ray’s voice splits through my hair like cold water,  
‘Oh my god Mikey!’ I can sense him coming closer, and his presence is enough for me to open my eyes without feeling ridiculously sick. His face is stricken with panic, eyes wide with horror at the site of me. Did I really look that bad?! He picks up the bottle which I’d dropped onto the floor, examining the contents and frowning. I look at him helplessly, wanting to tell him there and then. Could I? Should I? No. I probably won’t even remember this in the morning so it’d be pointless.  
‘Why did you do this?’ Ray shouts from another room, though I don’t remember when he left this one. I mumble something about feelings and solitude but he doesn’t hear me. When he comes back into my site, he’s carrying a glass of water which I sip at nervously. Part of me wants to carry on drinking the bitter alcohol and just forget everything, but another part wants to get back to my normal state where my thoughts are quiet and calm. He’s talking again, though I can’t focus on his voice so I stare blankly at him until he realises. He turns around,  
‘Ray...’I manage to cry out, begging him not to leave me like this,  
‘I’m going to get you a blanket!’ He chuckles slightly while walking out of the room. It would be so easy to tell him now, with no one else around, just us. Why not? He walks back in while I’m still contemplating it, holding a blue stripy blanket. He smiles a little, though it’s not exactly a happy smile.  
‘I-I love you.’ I stutter out, shocked at my own courage. He chuckles a little and pushes me back so I’m lying on the couch. At first I think he’s going to kiss me, but he simply spreads the blanket over me instead.  
‘I love you too.’ He says, but he doesn’t mean it, he doesn’t understand. He thinks it’s the alcohol talking. He sits down on the arm of the sofa, behind my head,  
‘No like really,’ I say, though I slur the words so much it would be hard to decipher them. I turn around to look at him, maybe a little too quickly as the room lurches before me and my stomach churns like waves. He smiles again, the kind he gives you when he’s sympathetic. Why won’t he listen to me? I feel anger rising in my stomach and I want to scream. Though I can’t. He says it again, though I know that he doesn’t mean it seriously. He never will, he’s got a fucking girlfriend for gods sake.  
Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut like I usually do? I just want to pass out now, and pretend like I can’t remember anything in the morning. He fiddles with my hair absentmindedly, muttering something about how stupid I was. It hurt despite the fact that he wasn’t being serious, maybe because my mind is taking everything way too personally. Like the fact that Alicia has left the remote on the sofa underneath my thigh...  
I want to show him how much I meant it, if he won’t listen to my words. Is it just my brain or is he biting his lip like he does when he’s thinking. I can’t feel anything anymore except some sort of hatred regret towards him, so strong that I want to hurt him. I can’t. I force my arms to my side and smile as a ‘thank you’ to him, though I’m pretty sure he knows that I’m faking it. He knows I don’t drink unless something is really getting to me, which is probably why he’s sitting with my pounding head lying on his lap, fiddling with a strand of my dyed hair.  
‘Yeah...’ He says, slightly behind I think but then I may have said something else to him without knowing. I frown a little asking him, ‘I really mean it too.’  
I shake my head, which makes him chuckle a little. I wish he’d stop treating me like I’m a kid, though he is adorable while doing it. He doesn’t really mean it, he doesn’t know what I mean. He doesn’t know that I’d happily give up my long-term girlfriend just to have him kiss me once. But then how would he? I sit up, which surprises both of us I guess, and turn around to face him. A piece of hair flops in front of my eye, which I brush hurriedly out of my face to find my hands aren’t shaking anymore. I feel sober, but then again it could be because the internal screaming has stopped altogether. Ray is what’s made me sane again, I guess, even if I do stink of booze and the room is still slightly hazy apart from the man I love’s face and ridiculous hair. I stare into his eyes, but can’t seem to focus like I usually do on the hazel colour which greets me. I pull up beside him, and the smile fades from his face as we get closer.  
I lean into his lips, not really aware of why or what I’m doing anymore. I want him. I want him more than anything and I don’t care who knows about it. Saying that, I’m vaguely aware it’s the drink talking. I just have time to catch his pupils dilate slightly, for my heart to skip a tiny beat before he shoves my shoulders away from him. I let my body fall back onto the other cushion of the sofa, grinning at his obstruction. I saw the look on his face when he realised what I was going to do. He’s shouting at me now, though my mind is gradually filling up with loud notions so I don’t catch exactly what he’s saying.  
I can tell he’s angry, flustered and maybe a little turned on. He’s bright red and his afro is a lot frizzier, though that may be the humid temperature of my apartment. I smile smugly, not even caring about his feelings. He’s hurt me enough, why shouldn’t I make him feel something against me for once? Why don’t I play the fucking good guy for once? He’s standing up, red faced and embarrassed, mumbling something about Alicia. She wouldn’t care. She doesn’t even care that much I swear, it’s not like we’re sentimental with eachother.  
He storms out eventually, which hurts me more and makes the screaming in my head start up again. I pick up the alcohol, letting the clear liquid numb every other feeling that I may ever have had. I pass out around an hour later, after I’ve managed to cry out everything that’s happened, or at least when the alcohol finally takes over  
*  
My head is pounding when I wake up, making opening my eyes a drag that I’d rather not do. I sense the sofa supporting my weight, and a blanket covering me. God knows how I ended up here. The place smells of disinfectant, like someone has tried too hard to make things normal. The sound of pots and pans clanging rings through my head, forcing a searing pain to pulse into my brain. Alicia.  
I groan a little, my body heavy and aching. I remember drinking, then drinking more, and even more but that’s it. I remember the loud sounds that my thoughts created in my head, the way my hands shook as I pulled the bottle up towards my lips. That’s it. That’s when everything becomes a blur of stinking breath and not a lot else. I’m not sure if I want to know what I did, or said. I sigh then grab a chewing gum off of the table to clear the smell of vodka off of me.  
The living room tries to throw me off balance by spinning before my eyes as I stand up, but I blink hard and manage to make my way into the corridor. Why did I do it? Why the fuck would I do that? It hasn’t helped in anyway, this is why I don’t drink often. Alicia’s standing over a mug, clearly making some kind of hot beverage. Her hair is tied loosely behind her, her dressing gown tied tightly around her waist.  
‘Hey,’ She sounds tired as she realises my presence, which makes me wonder what time she came in last night. I wonder if she’ll bring up last night, or if it’ll stay another secret that neither of us talk about. She turns around to face me, sipping at the mug in her pale hands. I want to say I love her, but the truth is that I don’t. She’s lovely, intelligent and drop dead gorgeous but she has just one flaw; she’s not Ray. I greet her with a peck on the lips, which she smiles after and leans again the wall.  
‘You were pretty wasted last night...’ She says, sounding almost teasing,  
‘You can talk!’ I say, acting like I remember seeing her last night,  
‘Like you remember.’ She shoots back at me, rolling her eyes. I narrow my own, smiling. Of course I don’t remember. I just hope that she won’t ask questions, ‘Ray called just now, when you were sleeping.’  
‘Oh...’ I say absentmindedly, worrying more about the images that flood into my head at the sound of his name. Memories from last night, only flashes, but enough to make my stomach drop. What the hell did I do..? ‘What did he want?’  
‘I don’t know, he said he wanted to speak to you.’ She speaks while walking out of the room and into their bedroom. I don’t follow her, instead I pick up the landline and dial Ray’s number at top speed. He picks up on the third ring,  
‘Hello?’  
‘Hey,’ I say back, slightly wary of him,  
‘Oh, hi.’ He sounds resentful, my hearts pounding now. I just want to know what happened.  
‘Right what the hell happened last night?’ I say after a moment, leaning against the worktop counter to try and act casual.  
‘Oh not a lot, you got pretty wasted, called me up, I came round and sat with you for a bit and stuff...’ He trails off,  
‘Shit what do you mean by and stuff?’ I ask, kind of half knowing the answer,  
‘You told me you loved me and then- then,’ He takes a breath, ‘Then you tried to kiss me.’  
I knew it. What the hell was I thinking?! Now he’s never going to want to see me again oh my god. I’ve ruined everything. I wish I had drunk the whole bottle and got alcohol poisoning.  
‘Mikey?’ He calls me back to reality, I make some kind of noise to let him know that I’m still here, ‘But you were drunk so..’  
‘Yeah, yeah I was just drunk. Oh my god Ray I’m so sorry I never meant to you know that right?’ I try to sound convincing, but the truth is I did mean it. I love him. I really love him. I want to kiss him. I want to feel his body pressed next to mine. He stops be babbling rubbish about drinking by saying,  
‘Come over to mine as soon as possible...there’s some stuff I need to sort out.’  
I agree and hang up, regretfully pulling on some shoes and calling out to Alicia that I’m going out. She says something about getting milk but I stop listening and get out of the door before she’s even stopped. It’s not too cold, but then again not warm. It’s one of those nothing days, that won’t count for anything in the long run. I don’t notice much on the walk there, more thinking about ways to avoid awkward eye contact with Ray. It couldn’t change anything drastically, could it? I was drunk. Out of my mind drunk, he must realise that, so why is he so worried by it? My brain tries to tell me that it’s because he feels the same but I push it away because I know it’s not true.  
I knock in his front door quickly. It is actually quite cold, and my hands have gone numb. He opens it after a little while, dark rings that aren’t usually under his eyes distract my attention from speech. He smiles a little at the sight of me, and I remember that I didn’t even look in a mirror before I left the house. Nice one. He invites me in, and I follow him into the familiar living room,  
‘Before you ask, she’s out.’ He says, sitting down on one of the sofas. I sit next to him, slightly cautious of my every move. I really just want to know why I’m here and then leave. I nod anyway, smiling because he knows me better than I know myself, which scares me a little.  
‘You know it’s great to see you, but why am I here?’ I ask, trying not to offend him. We stare at eachother a little, the room seeming to disappear as I see him and only him. God I wish I was straight.  
‘You were drunk last night weren’t you?’ He asks. No I was totally sober, what kind of question is this?!  
‘Ur yeah...’ I answer slowly, still staring at his eyes. His eyes. My mind gives me more images from last night, though they’re hazy and blurred. His pupils getting wider as we get closer...I blink to get them out of my head. He’s straight. I need to stop making stuff up,  
‘Yeah right yeah.’ He answers, definitely not in character. His eyes break away from mine and stare at the floor. I can’t tell if there’s a tiny bit of alcohol still in me or if he’s blushing,  
‘Ray?’ I duck my head a little to try and catch his eyes again. I hope to god that he knows just how drunk I was. He looks up at me suddenly, shaking his head a little and says what I can only assume is my brain tricking me,  
‘Well I wish you weren’t drunk.’ He says it almost angrily, and looks back at the floor straight after the words leave his mouth. My head’s doing that awful thing where it brings up scenarios that I want to happen and plays them over and over until I flip out and shout.  
‘What?’ I ask him, determined to catch what he actually said.  
‘I wish you weren’t drunk and that you actually wanted to kiss me. There. I said it.’ He stands up as he’s speaking and my stomach begins to churn. I tell myself he’s joking. God do I tell myself, but the butterflies rising inside of me don’t listen. He turns away from me, one hand to his forehead and one on his hip. I breath heavily, pretty sure he can hear me almost hyperventilating, but I couldn’t care less.  
He wants me to kiss him. He wants to kiss me. Me and him, kissing. He wants it! I want to squeal with delight, but having not declared my homosexuality yet I think that may not be a good idea. I walk up behind him, not managing to hide the grin on my face or the delight in my eyes. He turns around kind of suddenly, but I don’t hesitate before I shove our lips together.  
His body is tense at first, and I hope it’s only from shock and that this whole thing wasn’t a joke, but I feel him relax when he realises what’s happening. I want to go further, because god knows how long I’ve waited for this moment, but I restrain myself and pull away from him. His face is completely shocked, his eyebrows higher than I’ve ever seen them. I can’t help but smile while sighing. I could count every single time I’ve dreamt of this moment, but then I’d probably end up standing here for a while looking like an idiot so I won’t.  
‘I’m not drunk now,’ I say, to break the stunned silence that has settled. He blinks, then sighs, his whole body relaxing a little,  
‘Mikey Way...I love you.’ He says, stepping towards me and taking my hand. Fucking hell, I’m beginning to think that maybe I am still drunk. Again have to suppress my squealing,  
‘I love you too.’ I say back, surprised at the calm I’m managing to keep.  
So I’ve known Ray Toro for a long time. I’ve also been madly in love with Ray Toro for a long time, he’s been in love with me.


End file.
